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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25833628">Da Capo al Fine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorePeanutsPlease/pseuds/MorePeanutsPlease'>MorePeanutsPlease</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Whiplash (2014)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abusive Relationships, Andrew is very confused, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Eventual Explicit Content, M/M, PTSD, Post Movie, Suicide</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:35:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,253</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25833628</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorePeanutsPlease/pseuds/MorePeanutsPlease</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard to forget that there were good times too.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Terence Fletcher/Andrew Neiman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Intonation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This takes place a year after the first movie. Also trigger warning for dubcon and suicide mentions in this chapter!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The phone call requesting Fletcher’s bail did not come as much of a shock to Andrew. Things had been really bad between them for about a month now, and Andrew knew that moving out would be the catalyst for some pretty serious shit. However, the real shock came when Andrew was asked to show up in court as a witness.</p><p>Jamie Wilson had been an aching tooth in Andrews life for a while now, something he had prayed for weeks would just go away. In a fucked up twist of irony, it turned out that his wish had come true. Jamie had slit his wrists after confessing to his mother that Terence Fletcher had raped him… of course the part that upset Andrew the most was that Fletcher really had been sleeping with Jamie.</p><p>It was a fucked up series of events that Andrew was semi aware but also in denial of. It had only been a week since Andrew cut Fletcher off before he received the phone call about his ex-mentor's incarceration… He never made the effort to post Fletcher's bail, but here he was… six months later in court to testify against him.</p><p>“I’d like to call a witness to the stand,” The Wilsons’ lawyer was circling around to the front. She was alright… she was also the only person knew the details of Andrew's life with Fletcher. His dad had let him move back home, but he refused to acknowledge what had happened between his son and the man four times his age.</p><p>“We are nearing the end of this day’s hearing. Do you respect that we need to keep questioning short?” The judge however reminded him of his dad. So far he had not been very sympathetic toward the mother of Jamie. The past two weeks she had been verbally insulted and beaten down by Fletcher’s lawyer while the judge just sat there, listening but not actually hearing.</p><p>“Yes your honor,” She looked back at Andrew whose eyes were glued dead to the ground. Ms. Wilson was holding his hand for comfort, also serving as a shield to block him from Fletcher’s view, “I’d like to call witness Andrew Neiman to the stand.”</p><p>Andrew almost jumped at the sound of his name. Even though he had run through this scenario thousands of times in his head, his knees still wobbled as he made his way behind the podium. He couldn’t see him but he could feel Fletcher’s eyes burning into the side of his skull.</p><p>He had promised himself he wouldn’t look, but curiosity got the better of him. He could barely remember those fierce, disapproving eyes, and like a moth to the flame, his gaze was pulled to the now bearded face of Fletcher. The six months in jail had not been kind to him. Luckily he wasn’t even looking at Andrew, instead he was scowling at the wall behind the judge.</p><p>“Mr. Neiman,” The Wilson’s lawyer started, “How old were you when you first started your instruction under Terence Fletcher?”</p><p>“Nineteen,” His throat felt scratchy. </p><p>“And how old were you when you started your sexual relationship with him?” Those words sounded surreal in this setting. Even when Andrew was with Fletcher, he did his best to make sure that not a soul ever found out.</p><p>Andrew’s brain screamed to not look at Fletcher, anywhere, anywhere but Fletcher, but his eyes betrayed him once again, “I was a month away from being twenty…” This time their gazes locked on each other.</p><p>“Was this your first time being sexually active?”</p><p>He closed his eyes and felt himself fall into the deep pit of shame that this topic had burrowed into his mind, “Yes.”</p><p>“Do you think that Fletcher knew this?”</p><p>“Yes…” Thanks to a horrible night of post concert drinking, he found himself confessing his virginity to an overly mouthy NYU sax player. Word had spread to someone in his ensemble, and unsurprisingly, Fletcher found out.</p><p>“Do you think this played a role in him pursuing you?”</p><p>“Your honor-“ Fletcher’s lawyer stood for only a second before the judge raised a dismissive hand.</p><p>The judge shot a warning glare, “We will not have interruptions for this round of questioning.”</p><p>“Why do you think Fletcher singled you out, out of all other students?”</p><p>“He was aware that I was a virgin… and… he was interested in that…” He didn’t like the way that sounded either.</p><p>“Interested how?”</p><p>“He would hold it over my head… like during practice.”</p><p>“Could you give us an example?”</p><p>“When I did something wrong he would say things like…” he swallowed, “like he wasn’t surprised that no one would fuck me, that I was a limp dick virgin, things like that…”</p><p>“Could you recount the events leading up to the first advance that Fletcher made toward you.”</p><p>“For a while,” He pulled at a scab on his finger, hoping the pain would distract him from the words coming out of his mouth, “He made jokes about how I was a bad drummer because I was too pent up to play correctly…”</p><p>-------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>“I’m serious, it weighs on the mind until you can’t focus on anything else. Get out of here and find some seedy ass bar and pound it out with some hooker. I don’t fucking know,” Fletcher rambled as he threw his coat on. Andrew cursed himself for allowing this topic to come up again. If he could just ease up on the pills his stamina would definitely improve. But the post-crash-aches weren’t getting any better.</p><p>Fletcher approached him with another chart in his hand, “If you need to get laid to fix those muppet arms, then it's worth it.”</p><p>“Great advice, I’ll make sure to remember that,” Andrew inched his way past only for Fletcher to take a step back and block him in the doorway. </p><p>“Really? Because I’ve been telling you to fix your psycho virgin rage for a month now.”</p><p>“What makes you think that I haven’t already?” </p><p>Fletcher's voice strained holding back a laugh, "Oh I bet you have darling," he reached up and gave his hair a little pat, obviously fucking with him now. His overall demeanor changed as he placed a hand on Andrew’s shoulder, “I mean you’re a really talented drummer. Any girl would just go wild for that.”</p><p>Andrew let out a little awkward laugh, not sure if that comment was more a joke than an actual compliment. He shook his head, denying just in case it was a joke.</p><p>“I mean it, you really could just about fuck any girl if you wanted to,” Fletcher motioned with his hand, as if this was the type of motivational speech Andrew had been asking for.</p><p>“Trust me, that shit you heard isn’t true,” Andrew regained his cool tone, fixing his posture so that he could look down on Fletcher, “I don’t need help in that area.”</p><p>“Yeah, fucking, right. You know, you are the most uptight, pent up, rage filled, musician I have ever worked with,” The height difference wasn't enough to scare Fletcher off.</p><p>He wasn't wrong. Andrew had broken more drumsticks than he could afford replacing.</p><p>“I’m not saying you need help in that area,” Fletcher closed in on Andrew, “I’m saying that if I was still a virgin at your age I would’ve slit someones throat by now.”</p><p>There was no warning when Fletcher ran his hand across Andrew’s neck bringing his thumb up to graze the scar on his chin. Andrew’s whole body tensed from his toes to his finger tips.</p><p>“You know I could always help you beat it off if you’ve forgotten how,” He ran his thumbnail gently across Andrew’s bottom lip. Andrew could feel his eyes growing impossibly wide, not sure how to make a comeback to that.</p><p>With a chuckle under his breath Fletcher exited down the hallway leaving a still very tense Andrew, whose grip was firmly placed on the door frame behind him.</p><p>----------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>“And did you feel comfortable coming back to practice the next night?”</p><p>NO! No he did not. But Andrew always came back. He couldn’t take anything Fletcher did or said too seriously, “To me it just seemed like every time he confronted me about my sexuality. I just thought it was another test.”</p><p>“What do you mean by ‘test’?”</p><p>“A test to see if I took this serious… or if I’d leave again.”</p><p>“And he tested you in that way often?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Did it quickly escalate after the first incident?”</p><p>It was too distant to remember how exactly things got so intense. From Fletcher passively running a hand across Andrew’s neck… the night that he asked Andrew to stay late…</p><p>“Yes…Things moved really fast.”</p><p>“The first time that Fletcher asked you to sleep with him, did you view that as a test as well?”</p><p>Yes.... and no....“I thought that if I didn’t sleep with him he would kick me out of the band.”</p><p>Andrew looked over to Fletcher.  The mans eye's burned with only hatred, disgust, and total indifference. Why did Andrew want to see him smiling again so badly? Maybe just to remember what it looked like....</p><p>“Mr. Neiman…” The lawyer cut his gaze, “Did you want to have sex with Terence Fletcher?”</p><p>He had never even admitted it out loud before…He didn’t even know if it was true anymore. At first it was true… But never in a million years would he ever tell Fletcher this, ”No.”</p><p>“No further questions your honor.”</p><p>——————————————————————————</p><p>Next round of questions were from Fletcher’s hard ass lawyer, who was just as old and as mean as Fletcher. He looked more like an ex marine than a lawyer. </p><p>“Mr. Neiman… you say that you wanted no part in your relationship with Terence Fletcher,” He started, voice shrill and venomous.</p><p>Andrew didn’t want to admit it again, instead he nodded.</p><p>“Could you explain to me what a Rush session is?”</p><p>Andrew swallowed nervously, Fletcher was going to use <em> this </em>, of all things, as evidence? “Um… They were private sessions between me and Fletcher…”</p><p>“Right, and what happened during these sessions?”</p><p>------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>
  <b>Well… It started as a way for us to focus on my solo in <em>Sidonie</em>…</b>
</p><p>Fletcher’s hand was under Andrew’s shirt, it had ended up there a while ago, but Andrew didn’t risk saying a word. </p><p>“Keep it steady, if that leg comes up again I’ll break it,” He also had a hand on his knee. The point was to fix Andrew’s shitty posture and to avoid the, as Fletcher put it, “dick riding bounce” that he often did when he played at 450 bps. </p><p>Andrew was barely breathing, his legs were braced on the bottom of the chair as the rest of his body pushed against the force of his arms. </p><p>Fletcher slapped his knee signaling him to stop. Andrew fell forward, bracing against his snare drum, arms trembling. </p><p>“Hurts now but your knees will be thanking you in twenty years.” his hand was still under Andrews shirt. He could feel it clinging to the sweat of his lower back.</p><p>There was a beat of silence between the two as Andrew regained his breath, “You want me to go again?”</p><p>“You are sweating like a fucking pig you know that?” Fletcher said, subtly rubbing his thumb on Andrew’s back.</p><p>“Yeah, well. If you haven't already noticed, It hurts like a bitch to play the drums.”</p><p>“Where’s it hurt?”</p><p>Andrew looked down at his hands before raising them to show off his bloody blisters.</p><p>“Ok well I can stop the bleeding for at least a couple of minutes,” Fletcher got up from his chair and made his way over to the wall where the first aid kit hung, “Go sit over there,” he gestured to the old piano bench that had been collecting dust all year.</p><p>When he took a seat Fletcher placed a box of bandies and a couple of alcohol pads next to him, “Hand,” Andrew offered it up only for Fletcher to aggressively wipe it down with an alcohol pad, most definitely removing some loose skin along with the blood. He opened a gauze pad and began to wrap Andrew's hand with a bandage. He then used the band-aides to delicately wrap the tips of his fingers. </p><p>“Better?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Andrew opened and closed his hands a few times, finding it hard not to smile that Fletcher of all people just tended to his wounds.</p><p>“You can take some of this shit home with you,” Fletcher gestured down to the bandages and rubbing alcohol next to Andrew.</p><p>“Thank you,” He hid his smile as best he could.</p><p>
  <b>What else happened in these sessions?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>He also used them as a way to get me alone… as a way to get me to sleep with him …</b>
</p><p>Fletcher leaned down, “Remember, you over work yourself and I’m straight out a drummer,” Andrew nodded, “I don’t want to see anymore open wounds in my studio.”</p><p>“You sore anywhere?”</p><p>“Not more than usual.” </p><p>“Knowing you, you could have three broken ribs and not say anything,” He looked through the box and pulled out a crush heating pad and a packet of ibuprofen. “Here,” He handed Andrew the pill, “Don’t get used to the star treatment by the way. I would be ignoring your ass if we weren’t doing <em>Sidonie</em>,” Andrew let him see the obnoxious smirk pulling at his mouth. He knew that Fletcher specifically chose that song so he could get the chance to show off again.</p><p>“Lie back,” He handed Andrew the pack, “Hold it on your leg,” He grabbed Andrew’s arm, pulling his hand up to his chest, and began to massage small circles in his bicep. He dug his fingers into the tender muscle, and the sensation didn’t all at once make Andrew uncomfortable, in fact, it felt rather pleasant. Fletcher’s aggressive touch made for a good massage. </p><p>Andrew’s brows knitted together, probably looking like he was in pain more that he was pleasure, “It tight there?”</p><p>He nodded, bumbling to show that he appreciated it, “But it’s good- I mean thank you-“ His eyes darted upward for a brief second only to see Fletcher giving him a suggestive, yet calculating look. That was when the universe flipped.</p><p>Fletcher’s hand moved down, latching onto Andrew’s inner thigh. He squeezed slowly before muttering in a deep throaty tone, “Is it tight here too?”</p><p>
  <b>You said that he forced you to have intercourse… Did you ever vocalize that you did not want to do these things with him?</b>
</p><p>Andrew couldn’t respond, his mouth just opening and closing, the words dying with his breath. He could barely let his brain register what Fletcher was doing. Half of him screamed ‘This is a fucking trap!’ and the other half screaming, “Get over yourself as if Fletcher would try to fuck you!’</p><p>“You ever been touched like this before?” he dug his finger into the sensitive nerve in the pit of his thigh.</p><p>Andrew didn’t know why the universe was against him, but those words made his heart hammer hard enough to get his dick to twitch. He braced for an insult, for anything, but Fletcher just chuckled, in a weird, gruff way that Andrew didn’t recognize.</p><p>He was massaging Andrew’s leg, breathing into his sensitive ear, “When’s the last time you jacked off?”</p><p>His mind was all over the place, this was real, this was fucking real, this is a mistake, what the fuck is happening?! He jumped when Fletcher gently ran his hand over Andrew’s crotch, his mouth now babbling trying to find a way to make this stop, “I’m sorry-I-I I’ve never um… I can’t”</p><p>“You’ve never jacked off? You can’t jack off?”</p><p>“I- can’t do this-“</p><p>
  <b>I tried to tell him to stop… but I was scared… and he wouldn’t listen</b>
</p><p>Fletcher scowled, pushing Andrew back onto the bench, “Can’t or won’t?”</p><p>Andrew looked down at the floor, Fletcher now at his eye-line. He was at a loss not sure what to say. Fletcher didn’t want to just stand there all night so he took his chance to kiss Andrew deeply and roughly. All Andrew's brain could processed was the weird scratchy feeling from Fletcher's recently shaven stubble.</p><p>“Please-“ Andrew pushed back, “I just need time to register what’s happening,”</p><p>“What do you think is happening?” Fletcher’s voice was still so low and scratchy, it was obvious he was getting off on this.</p><p>Andrew felt sick and hot all over as he tried to find a non-disgusting way to word it, “Terence Fletcher is trying to make out with me…”</p><p>Fletcher gave a pitying smile before leaning in to press his lips against Andrew’s ear, “Trying to fuck you, actually.”</p><p>Andrew mind blurred out into white noise, this is a nightmare. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t. But there was a nagging curiosity behind every thought of panicked disgust. The duel in his brain continued “He’s a sick, old fuck! What the hell is wrong with him!?” vs. “Who would turn this down? You are getting the chance of a lifetime!”</p><p>Fletcher pulled back, eyebrow raised as though he knew part of Andrew saw this as an amazing opportunity. Andrew choked, not realizing he had been holding his breath. He smiled, trying to look grateful… but grateful for what?</p><p>Before Andrew could think of a way out, Fletcher was already unzipping his pants.</p><p>----------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>“Why did you continue to show up to these sessions if you knew that he was going to use them for intercourse?”</p><p>“Because I was scared not to, because I didn’t want him to kick me out of the band.”</p><p>“That’s interesting. You didn’t seem too scared to send explicit photos to Mr. Fletcher on September eighth, September twelfth, and October second?”</p><p>Andrew’s eyes darted over to his lawyer, hoping she would stand up to defend him, but she just gave a steady shake of the head, “I’m not saying that I didn’t make mistakes, but I never wanted to have a sexual relationship with Fletcher.”</p><p>“Then why did you move into his studio apartment only two weeks after the first instance of assault?”</p><p>“I did what Fletcher told me because I had no other option!”</p><p>“Then why did you turn down offers from the Lincoln Center and the San Francisco Jazz Orchestras? I mean, surely they wouldn’t put you under such horrible treatment.” </p><p>Andrew shut his mouth, he knew that he had lost. All he wanted to do know was scream. He threw himself back in his chair, shaking his head, trying to hold it all in.</p><p>“And why after your hospitalization did you continue to live in Mr. Fletcher’s apartment despite no longer being in his ensemble?”</p><p>Andrew felt a rogue tear trying to form. He did his best to hide it, looking off to the side of the court.</p><p>“That will be all your honor,” Fletcher’s lawyer said with a smug sing-song cadence.</p><p>The Judge brought down his gavel, “That will be all for today, we are going to take a recess and reconvene  on August tenth at 9 am.” </p><p>Andrew watched as two guards helped his former mentor to his feet before cuffing him. Their eyes met again for a moment, and that familiar flutter pounded through his chest, the one he would feel before practice, the one he would feel seeing Fletcher in the halls. It was gone with Fletcher as he left the court room.</p><p>—————————————————————————</p><p>The dinner table was eerily quiet like always. His dad was eating a violent pace while Andrew could barely bring the fork to his mouth. He felt the urge to say something about what had happened in court, but his Dad didn’t so much as wish him luck before he left.</p><p>“I saw that there's a used car for sale, by the Quickiemart,” His Dad said with a mouth full of mashed potatoes, “Only two hundred bucks.”</p><p>“You know…” Andrew could feel himself talking, but he couldn’t stop it soon enough, “I think the Wilson’s might win their case.”</p><p>Andrew’s Dad stopped eating for a second, not looking up before giving a passive, “Yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah, I mean, Fletcher might just settle to get out of going to prison.”</p><p>His Dad looked up with a sneer, “Would that make you happy?” he asked in an accusatory tone.</p><p>“Well, no I hope he goes to prison,” Andrew wanted to slap the food out of his Dad’s mouth. </p><p>His Dad just continued on eating, no more to be said. He finished his plate and retreated to the living room where he turn the TV full volume. Andrew ran his hand over his face, looking down at his plate of mushy pasta before realizng there was no way he was eating today. It ended up in the trash, and Andrew found himself hiding out in the garage.</p><p>He knew what his dad was thinking. Ever since he ran off with Fletcher his dad took it as a big ‘fuck you,’ and now that Fletcher was going to prison he was using it as a big ‘I told you so.’ It was embarrassing and stupid, and the fact that Andrew of all people was accusing him of rape was just laughable.</p><p>It was ridiculous. In his heart of hearts, he knew that he could’ve left… he just didn’t… he could’ve stopped it all a year ago, but he chose Fletcher. He had to live with those consequences no matter the damage to his pride.</p><p>The good times were enough for him to get through it.</p><p>He looked over to his apartment boxes that have remained unopened since moving back in with his Dad. He had brought a lot of Fletcher's belongings back with him without thinking much of it. It wouldn’t hurt just to look at it again.</p><p>Andrew pulled the box from the top and dragged it over to his drums. He pulled out several dvd cases, an old figurine that used to sit on their night stand, and finally a sweater that fletcher used to let him wear. He felt the scratchy wool material between his fingers before holding it to his face.</p><p>
  <em> Fletcher leaned into Andrew helping him adjust his symbol ahead of practice. Their eyes met for a brief second only for Fletcher to laugh, “What the fuck do you want?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Nothing,” Andrew blushed. Fletcher smelled really good, must’ve been his detergent or something. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Fletcher put a gentle hand behind his neck and gave him a reassuring pet.  </em>
</p><p>No he didn’t want to think about that right now.</p><p>
  <em> “You still cold?” Fletcher had his arm wrapped around his waist, rubbing his hip. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No,” He buried his head into Fletcher's neck. Fletcher’s sweater was nice, warm, and it definitely smelled like him, something Andrew was becoming more aware of. Fletcher smelled like aftershave and rosin of some kind.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “If you stretch it out you're buying me a new one,” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Andrew reached a hand up to gently smack Fletcher’s cheek. The man grabbed his hand and gave him a kiss on the knuckle. </em>
</p><p>NO! He was mean too! remember that.</p><p>
  <em> Andrew climbed into bed carefully, knowing that Fletcher was worse when he was tired.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He had obviously failed when a quiet “Andrew?” came from behind him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Sorry, I was trying to be quiet,” Andrew peaked over despite the pitch black obscuring Fletcher’s face. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Fletcher didn’t speak again as he wrapped his arm around Andrew’s waste, pulling his back into his chest. Fletcher nuzzled his mouth against the back of Andrew’s head, giving it a small kiss before going back to sleep.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Andrew felt too giddy to sleep now. He practically swooned as he hugged those arms around his waist, feeling the scratchy material of his sweater beneath his fingers.  </em>
</p><p>He was a monster, a fucking creep….</p><p>He inhaled deeply, feeling his throat close and his eyes filled with tears. It still smelled like him. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Fugue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Dad!” Andrew called out, pushing through the mass of people forming outside the door. His euphoria was short-lived as he looked to his Dad in victory only to see the man exiting the building. The crowd was giving him little praises as he walked past, but he was too distracted to hear, "Dad!"</p>
<p>His Dad was long gone as Andrew was surrounded, “Hey man that was awesome,” a much older drummer from Juilliard approached him and was actually geeking out to be in his presence, “Can I get a photo? I recorded the whole thing,” He fumbled with his phone taking a haphazard selfie with Andrew. That was the signal for everyone to take out their phones.</p>
<p>There were so many questions from other players and conductors that Andrew couldn't keep up, overwhelmed by the foreign amount of praise. One stood out, the drummer from LA Jazz Orchestra, “Are you able to play west coast? We are looking for a backup drummer,” He handed Andrew a card with their conductor’s name and number. </p>
<p>More music came from the auditorium, but it seemed half of the audience was outside trying to get a picture of Andrew. He could feel his heart thrumming with excitement over the prospect of playing with a professional orchestra, a lot of the people surrounding him were recruiters asking for his teacher’s name and offering him different papers with phone numbers on them.</p>
<p>That’s when he saw Fletcher exit out the back, “Sorry, I’ll be right back,” Andrew slid past the wall of suits to the door to the smokers' pit. </p>
<p>The muggy night air surrounded him, as he scanned for Fletcher. He worried for a moment that he also left him last second before a gruff voice called from behind him, “You did good Neiman,” Fletcher actually said his name properly, Andrew almost didn't recognize it as his own. He turned to see Fletcher leaning against the brick wall, face lit up by the red of the cigarette he was smoking. Andrew smiled, trying to act as though this wasn't going to his head as he walked up to his peer, “Was that the plan from the beginning?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know what you mean,” Fletcher was trying to hide the smirk, but Andrew had gotten used to reading his eyes.</p>
<p>Andrew smiled to himself, so it was all worth it then. He was the only one, <em> the only one, </em> who could make it as Fletcher's student.</p>
<p>Fletcher threw down the butt of his cig, “Same time next week?”</p>
<p>Andrew was about to nod in agreement before feeling the papers in his hand. He looked down at them, seeing all of the opportunity there, “I got an offer,” He was sure Fletcher would understand, “A couple of offers…”</p>
<p>“I guess it’s only natural to move on… if that’s what you want,” Fletcher left his words a little too open-ended for Andrew’s liking.</p>
<p>“I mean yeah… I always wanted to get paid for my drumming,” it had been his out for things like shitty minimum wage jobs and office work. This was his path in life.</p>
<p>“Like I said, if that’s what you want,” He gave a smile, but that response still left Andrew with a lump in his throat, "Come here," Fletcher was putting his arms around Andrew. He panicked unsure what this was until a few seconds in. Fletcher was hugging him... It was a weird feeling to be sure, but it was full of a warmth that meant more than any kind gesture he received in his life. It felt earned.</p>
<p>Fletcher pulled back with a sigh, “If that's the best you can do, I think it's time we <em>both</em> move on,” They stood there as Andrew processed the words, one of Fletcher’s arm’s still behind his back.</p>
<p>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------</p>
<p>“Andrew,” There was a nudge on Andrew’s shoulder, “We’re here,” Mrs. Wilson coaxed him from his dream. </p>
<p>He lifted his head, disoriented and car sick, “Sorry,” Andrew wiped the sweat that had collected between his cheek and the car door. They were definitely somewhere in upstate New York, mansions and luxury cars, lining the streets. </p>
<p>“It’s ok sweetie,” Mrs. Wilson whispered, “I haven’t had a good nights sleep in a while…” she kept her gaze out the window, mind apparently elsewhere as they pulled into the driveway. </p>
<p>Andrew new he was in for an emotional rollercoaster, but this was something that felt almost unavoidable. They were going to meet with Fletcher’s ex wife for lunch. Never once during his time with Fletcher was she even mentioned. Mrs. Wilson was the one who technically agreed to the arrangement, Andrew was just tagging along for support.</p>
<p>The house was insanely expensive-looking, white columns on the porch, a perfectly tended lawn, and an awkwardly placed palm tree next to the driveway. Before they got out of the car a little moppy dog came running up to greet them.</p>
<p>The dog bounced circles around them as they made their way to the front door. </p>
<p>“Hi hi,” A blonde woman answered, looking to be around her fifties, a glass of red wine in hand, “Sorry about Bruser,” She reached down and picked up the dog clumsily by the collar, “Annoying little shit,” she huffed under breath before lumbering back inside.</p>
<p>Andrew and Mrs. Wilson looked at each other awkwardly, not sure if they were supposed to follow. Andrew took the lead and walked into the freezing cold house. The inside was very Californian, there was a lot of light coming in from somewhere, and all of the furniture was rustic, looking second hand, “I had lunch delivered if that’s alright,” She stumbled over herself as she put the dog on a couch.</p>
<p>“That sounds great,” Ms. Wilson smiled, still standing in the doorway.</p>
<p>Ms. Fletcher took a big gulp of wine before gesturing wildly with her arm, “It’s on the verandah,” She ended with a pop.</p>
<p>Andrew couldn’t help imagining Fletcher somewhere in this picture. Him laying on the couch by the fire, intensely reading something on his phone with the dog curled up at his side. Him making dinner in that giant kitchen, asking for help as he starts to burn it. His fantasy was ruined as he imagined the blonde-haired women coming to his aid… this was her house… that was always part of the picture whether he knew it or not.</p>
<p>Once outside Ms. Fletcher pulled out several wrapped sandwiches from a brown bag, “I know it’s not like ‘fancy smanshy' New York dining, but I don’t fucking own a cookbook,” She took a big bite of her sandwich, holding her wine in the air as she sat herself down.</p>
<p>She took a look at Andrew, “Sorry, I haven’t met you yet, who are you?” She asked, muffled by her sandwich.</p>
<p>“I’m Andrew…” He awkwardly nodded his head.</p>
<p>“Oh,” She swallowed her mouth full and gave a sardonic laugh, “Shocker…” She looked up at him for an uncomfortable amount of time before grabbing one of the three wine bottles on the table, “I thought you were Jamie’s brother,” She kept her eyes down as she poured another glass of wine.</p>
<p>“Andrew’s practically family now,” Ms. Wilson gave him a pat on the hand.</p>
<p>“I’d say the same,” She looked up, giving him a smile that read as more of a threat.</p>
<p>Andrew wanted a subject change fast, “What do you do for a living?”</p>
<p>She looked caught off guard for a second, “I’m an interior designer, and I do a little bit of painting, but that doesn’t pay as well.”</p>
<p>“Oh, well your setup is really nice,” He nodded to himself, swallowing his dry tongue, “Yeah, I could use some help with that kind of stuff.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t pick out the furniture,” She took another drink of wine, “You don’t shit where you eat.”</p>
<p>Andrew scrunched his nose, this woman was definitely sharp. Her eyes were so cold and piercing that Andrew couldn’t find the ability to look at them for very long.</p>
<p>“Have you been holding up ok?” Ms. Wilson asked.</p>
<p>“As well as one can, I mean. Terrance was straight the fuck out of my life twelve years ago... Nice things are finally catching up to him.”</p>
<p>Suddenly a rush of blonde hair swooped from the side door. Ms. Fletcher turned around and proceeded to yell, “Where the fuck are you going?” </p>
<p>Andrew’s eyes widened as he looked upon the young female’s face. She was pissed off. She was cute, nose round and covered in freckles. Andrew didn’t need to be told who this was. Even though they barely look anything alike, something inside him could sense that this was Fletcher’s daughter. Her and Andrew’s eyes met, and it seemed that she could sense who he was too.</p>
<p>“Where are you going?” Ms. Fletcher asked, breaking the staring contest.</p>
<p>“I don’t have to be here for this,” She was already turning around to continue her trek to the car.</p>
<p>Ms. Fletcher waved a dismissive arm, turning back to her guests, “She’s taking all of this kinda hard,” Mrs. Wilson nodded sympathetically and Andrew just continued to gaze at the girl gobsmacked.</p>
<p>“You know, she’s about your age Andrew,” Ms. Fletcher said with a bitter sing-songy tone...</p>
<p>Mrs. Wilson seemed to miss that part as she continued to ask pointless questions about the house, Ms. Fletcher’s job, and how she feels about the current state of the world. All boring small talk that Andrew had hoped he would’ve outgrown by this point in his life. His mind was occupied with the dots that were being connected in Fletcher’s abandoned past. He lived here at one point… he was a dad before… the thought creeped him out. There was a photo in Fletcher’s office of a blonde toddler, but it disappeared halfway into the semester. </p>
<p>He stopped his contemplation as Mrs. Wilson stood up, “Where’s the bathroom?”</p>
<p>“There’s one next to the kitchen under the stairs,” Ms. Fletcher gestured her out of the patio and left Andrew to manically search his mind for conversation topics.</p>
<p>“How did you meet Fletcher?” Andrew was unable to stop himself from fidgeting, pulling at his fingers uncomfortably.</p>
<p>“How did you?” Their eyes met for only a second before Andrew zoned back onto the half-eaten sub on his plate.</p>
<p>“He uh, heard me practicing and asked me to be in his ensemble,” He moved from squeezing his fingers to picking at the bread of his sandwich. </p>
<p>“Ah, So you're really good then?”</p>
<p>Andrew’s heart sank. He hated that. He didn’t like thinking about the previous indications his drumming once had. The indication that maybe, just maybe he was worth something, “I don’t know...”</p>
<p>“Well I was really good too, I used to sing at this club in Queens, and he would come by every night. He worked at this bodega and he’d bring me a bunch of those ugly wilted flowers they keep out front… of course, he had hair back then so it was a lot easier to look at him.”</p>
<p>Andrew could help but laugh a little. Fletcher had once shared a photo from his long-haired days. Those two versions of Fletcher had become separate people in his mind.</p>
<p>“Too bad Terrance was so far up his own ass. He was so fucking thick that he actually told me having a family would hold him back, and he just walked the fuck out. We were nine years in by the way. He was a complete washup,” Andrew felt sickened at that. He was so stupid for not connecting the dots that a divorced man who would force himself on a student might not be the most faithful partner. </p>
<p>“And no surprise that he has to prey on students to get any action,” He froze, wanting to vomit, “I mean I certainly wouldn’t sleep with him. It was a miracle Samantha was born, because let me tell you, it was a struggle to have that man near me,” Andrew’s head grew hot. Why did it feel like she was insulting him?</p>
<p>“I mean… it’s good that things didn’t work out then...” Andrew’s brain fizzled as he spoke, not sure how to stop things from being awkward.</p>
<p>“You know he always had a preference for stupid people, that’s why he couldn’t get along with me. The younger and more idiotic were always very attractive to him.”</p>
<p>She gave Andrew a quick glance, “I wonder which you are, young or just idiotic…”</p>
<p>“Shut the fuck up!!!” Andrew screamed, panting like he had been holding his breath. Ms. Fletcher smirked, leaning back into her chair.</p>
<p>“Maybe you should’ve tried harder to keep him interested,” Andrew said so quietly under his breath he wasn’t even sure if he said it aloud.</p>
<p> “Is that what you did?” Andrew’s eyes widened with rage. So many words tried to bubble up out of his mouth, all of them dying on his heavy breath.</p>
<p>“What’s going on?” Mrs. Wilson was back, whiping her hands on her shirt.</p>
<p>Ms. Fletcher smiled pleasantly, “I think Andrew could use some wine,” She handed Andrew a glass, “Are you old enough to drink?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Andrew took the glass bitterly, wanting to prove something that was, again, a lie.</p>
<p>“Andrew,” Mrs. Wilson almost scolded as she took the glass from his hand. His dad had allowed him to pop pills and drink himself into oblivion, it was kind of nice to have someone look out for him again. However, it didn’t stop the wave of shame that washed over him as Ms. Fletcher bit back her smile. What the hell was she getting from this? Fletcher wasn’t here. What was the point in torturing Andrew?</p>
<p>“If you’re feeling too emotional I can take you home,” She pet his hair as she spoke. Andrew shook his head, knowing that he would get this same kind of ridicule at home. He wasn’t broken, he wasn’t fucked up, he was fine, he just wanted to help Jamie’s mother… That was all he wanted... “You want to go home?”</p>
<p>Andrew nodded.</p>
<p>--------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p>
<p>The studio felt Eerie that night. It had only been a week since that private with Fletcher... If you'd even call it that. He almost considered doubling his dose before practice. His legs got him to the door, but he felt like he might have a panic attack before he got inside.</p>
<p>Luckily the bass line had arrived, allowing him to walk in undetected. He took his seat at the kit and proceeded to tune. He could sense where Fletcher was in the room, but he kept himself focused on the kit.</p>
<p>Fletcher seemed to have a similar MO, staying at his podium, watching Andrew like a hawk. Andrew refused to let his mind or his eyes wander, even a little. He narrowed his world down to his drums and found himself lost in how the music sounded.</p>
<p>When it was over, he looked up to see Fletcher smiling widely. He must’ve learned whatever lesson Fletcher was trying to teach him, if not on purpose, then subconsciously.</p>
<p>“Sounds like Neiman popped his cherry,” Fletcher quipped, getting a few chuckles. Andrew noticed a couple others were genuinely impressed, giving him encouraging nods and thumbs up, “Seriously though, we might actually be on track again.”</p>
<p>He felt his stomach turning as though Fletcher had just outed him, but the praise and recognition fixed his mind.</p>
<p>“Well that’s it for tonight,” Fletcher said as with a clap and Andrew felt a wave of relief. He quickly gathered his music and stumbled toward the door, “Can I get a moment Neiman?”</p>
<p>Andrew froze as the other guys rushed out around him. He kept his gaze low as he walked back toward Fletcher. His legs felt wobbly, the AC mixed with his anxiety making him shiver. </p>
<p>“Notice the difference?” Fletcher asked, all too pleased with himself. Andrew didn’t dare respond, waiting for the last sax player to leave.</p>
<p>“Well, I noticed,” Fletcher closed his folder and grabbed his jacket, “Hows about you come up here tomorrow for another Rush session, we only have three weeks left to fix all this,” Fletcher gestured up and down Andrew’s body.</p>
<p>So this was going to a recurring thing, Andrew wanted to puke at the thought, “You just said I’m doing better,” Andrew’s fire was dulled, he spoke timidly like it was their first practice all over again.</p>
<p>“Better? I said there was a difference, not that you were any good,” Fletcher was back peddling the compliment Andrew had worked so hard for. It was annoying when he could tell Fletcher was bullshitting him.</p>
<p>Andrew’s stomach was hurting, "Well if I've gotten better then why do I need another private?”</p>
<p>“My god you are one smug piece of shit,” Fletcher ran a tired hands down his face, "I don't give a fuck if you show up, but please do me a favor and save me the misery of having a limp dick retard on the drums," With that Fletcher pushed past Andrew and he was out the door.</p>
<p>The shaking didn’t stop. Maybe what happened during their last private was a one-time occurrence… He ran his hand through his hair, embarrassed for acting like such a wimp in front of Fletcher. The first time he cried in front of Fletcher was his goddamn last time showing any kind of fear in front of that man. Anxiety twisted itself into something else, and he couldn’t stop the thought, “You were a bad fucking lay,” from ringing in his brain. He shook his head, the voice sounded more like Fletcher’s than his own. </p>
<p>His brain returned to that night, over examining all of his actions. Fletcher kissing him, Andrew hadn’t kissed many girls before, maybe he was out of practice and sloppy. Fletcher jacking him off while saying all kinds of fucked up shit in his ear. Andrew didn’t do much while that was happening, just rolled his head back, keeping his eyes shut. Maybe Fletcher found it boring. Maybe Andrew was boring. He was good enough to play in the band without Rush sessions. </p>
<p>It was overwhelming. The thought that Fletcher had done that to him in the first place was too much to handle, but the idea Andrew made a fool out of himself while it was happening made it all the worse. He could just not show up… but it was too soon to turn back...</p>
<p>Andrew wanted to stick this out… he wanted to prove to his dad that he had made the right choice… that fletcher wouldn’t just give him opportunities, he would make him without a doubt the best. If this was what it took, he could handle it. It had to work out, or there would be hell to pay.</p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for all of the wonderful comments!!! Sorry for taking so long! I had to organize my thoughts.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Crescendo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Non con warning in this chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>Andrew was writing up the third text now. Apparently it had almost been two months since his dad had paid the apartment bills. Things were getting serious, the water had been shut off and an eviction notice came in the mail that morning. Andrew was torn because part of him believed he should be able to afford an apartment on his own at this age, but he also knew that this was his Dad’s unjustified way of punishing Andrew. Why he was punishing him was a little grey, they hadn’t gotten into it since the night of the concert, but from what Andrew could surmise, his dad was angry that he had gone back to Fletcher. Andrew wondered if his Dad would be acting this way if he had accepted defeat the night of the concert and ran home crying. </p>
<p>
  <em> I know things are tense but I need the apartment for school next semester. </em>
</p>
<p>Andrew sent the text, fully prepared to not get a response. It was worth the effort. But, fuck it, he was on his own.</p>
<p>That was when he saw the time, it was almost seven thirty. The door to the studio was just down the hall, but there was a mounting anticipation that made Andrew feel sick to his stomach. It was a sickness that had lasted the past 24 hours. It was a lose lose scenario he was walking into. Either Fletcher would make another attempt at Andrew, or nothing would happen, partially confirming that Andrew was a bad lay. No matter what, he was going to be up all night after this.</p>
<p>In the event that something did happen, he had prepared; He brushed his teeth, wore some crappy, drug store body spray, put on his best fitting underwear, took a shower, all of this just in case. He wouldn’t have come at all if he hadn't done it.</p>
<p>He ran his hands through his hair in a last ditch attempt to feel prepared as he walked up to the door. On the other side Fletcher sat hunched over, flipping through his phone. The man didn’t look up before speaking, “Get situated... I’ll be over in a second,” He was in a bad mood. Andrew could just tell. His time at Schaefer taught him to read more than sheet music.</p>
<p>Andrew took his seat and began to clumsily tune his kit. He looked up several times, observing every inch of Fletcher’s body language, in an attempt to predict how things were going to go tonight. </p>
<p>“Shit,” The man breathed out as his phone started to ring, “Start with Sidonie and I’ll be back,” Fletcher rushed out the door, answering his phone, “What!?” </p>
<p>Andrew couldn’t stop himself from eavesdropping on the man’s conversation, barely hearing anything until a loud, “I don’t hear any fucking playing!” came from the hallway.</p>
<p>Andrew jumped into the song, hands sloppy with dread. He was definitely going to get a side of Fletcher tonight. He ran through it once, definitely rushed, but leaving him with dead silence as Fletcher continued his muffled conversation outside the door.</p>
<p>He did pick up one part, “I’m with a student... WHO SHOULD BE PLAYING RIGHT NOW!” Andrew flinched, readying his sticks to run through the song a second time.</p>
<p>The chart was rehearsed about seven times before Fletcher returned, phone hidden away in his pocket, “Sorry about that,” Fletcher pulled up a chair next to Andrew.</p>
<p>“Is everything alright?” He asked, forgetting that he and Fletcher were not old buddies, their relationship was void of any personal intimacy.</p>
<p>“Run through Soaring please,” He shoved into Andrew’s side as he flipped the chart back over.</p>
<p>Andrew straightened his posture and began to play. Against his better judgement, he kept glancing over at Fletcher, earning a pissed off, “What?!” </p>
<p>Andrew kept himself in check as best he could, but with everything going on, he knew he was playing half assed.</p>
<p>He reached the end without a single reaction from Fletcher. Even when he slipped on the treble, Fletcher didn’t so much as blink. Andrew normally wouldn’t put himself on the spot like this, but he was getting desperate to kill the silence, “Anything I need to fix?”</p>
<p>Fletcher smiled, in that weird manipulative Andrew had become accustomed to at one point, “Nope, you’re right, it does sound better,” He got up from the chair, “I’ll see you next week then?”</p>
<p>Andrew gave a confused, disappointed laugh under his breath, “What, are we done?”</p>
<p>Fletcher was putting his coat and his hat back on, “Yep, I said I’ll see you next week,” he pulled his phone back out before exhaling a slew of hushed curses.</p>
<p>“What about…” Andrew looked for the words, “Well don’t I get a second chance?” He needed to know he was good. He needed to hear that Fletcher enjoyed it. </p>
<p>“A second chance?” He glanced up from his phone, only for it to start buzzing again.</p>
<p>“You said that I wasn’t any good,” Andrew swallowed, hoping that Fletcher would pick up on what he was saying.</p>
<p>“Why do you require so much ass kissing Andrew? You want a fucking gold star?” Fletcher was walking to the door, still not getting it.</p>
<p>“But I wasn’t horrible?” Andrew was being pathetic now, he was well aware that he had been baiting for insults the past ten minutes.</p>
<p>Fletcher sighed, keeping his eyes on Andrew as he answered his phone, “I’m done now,” he gestured to the door, dismissing Andrew. </p>
<p>------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p>
<p>There was so much that Andrew needed at this time. Just some kind words, maybe.</p>
<p>“You need to figure these things out Andrew because this is life,” his Dad had brought him another paper application for some grocery store. It shouldn’t have been a big deal… but it was. It was another slap in the face of Andrew’s new reality, “You need to get started, own a car, get a job-” </p>
<p>“I have more important things to worry about right now!” Andrew was laying on his bed, he was bored out of his mind and not in the mood to fill himself with pointless anxieties. That was the last thing he needed today.</p>
<p>“What is your life Andrew? You sit in here all day, you don’t even have a foundation to fall back on,” He was in his face again.</p>
<p>“I applied to Juliard, and I’m...” Andrew stopped himself. Even mentioning going back to an Orchestra, Studio Band, or anything related to professional music made his head sting. He knew that his image in the music industry was totally fucked. Everyone knew about him and Fletcher now. The only thing he’d be remembered as is an opportunistic whore. Fletcher had called him that once.</p>
<p>“So drowning in student debt while living with your dad. Is this how you want to live?”</p>
<p>Andrew hated when they got to this part, “So what are you going to kick me out again?”</p>
<p>“I never kicked you out Andrew, I didn’t want to be the schmuck paying for my son to be abused,” His dad bit back, surprising Andrew. Everyday his Dad one upped himself with his callous stupidity. He was lucky Mrs. Wilson was there. Even if she didn’t know the full story, her compassion fixed any bitter words Andrew’s Dad or Fletcher’s Lawyer threw in his face. Even when she dropped him off today, she scolded his dad, telling him to take it easy on Andrew. </p>
<p>But she wasn’t here to defend him. He was on his own, “Shut the fuck up…” Andrew didn’t yell, he just let it out in a breath. He wanted to be mad, but he almost found it funny that his Dad really believed  abandoning Andrew would have had any effect other than falling directly into Fletcher’s arms.</p>
<p>“You sound just like him you know, is that what you learned at Schaefer? I’m glad to have spent the money then,” Andrew’s eyes whipped open. There were so many things he wanted to say back to that. SO many. But he was tired.</p>
<p>“I need some sleep… can you please just leave me alone?”</p>
<p>“Well that’s awfully convenient for you Andrew,” His dad folded his arms, solidifying that he was staying until Andrew gave in.</p>
<p>“Are you not going to let me sleep?”</p>
<p>“I need to know what your plan is, tonight Andrew!”</p>
<p>“Fine…” Andrew sat up, grabbing his recently discarded shoes and slipping them back on. He pushed past his dad, grabbing his phone and backpack on the way out. He was going to get a moment of peace. Just one night with no tension, no fighting, no worrying about what was coming next.</p>
<p>He got out on the street and headed for the Subway.</p>
<p>----------------------------------------------------------------------</p>
<p>His shirt was way too fucking scratchy. The detergent in the laundry room was some kind of mass produced, factory grade shit. His bed sheets were also washed in it; they smelled like chemicals and bile, as though someone had died in his hotel room before he moved in.</p>
<p>Worst of all, was the lack of sleep. His neighbors constantly fought and threw things. Most nights he was too scared to sleep, just sitting up, staring at the bug filled fluorescent light above him. Sometimes he would let his mind wander to the alternate reality where he’s comfortably sleeping in the Juilliard dormitory, or even in his own apartment where he had accepted the Lincoln Center offer. But no, he couldn’t allow those thoughts. </p>
<p>“Neiman…” Fletcher had walked up to him at some point, “You need a coffee or something? What’s up with you?” Andrew had stayed after, per Fletcher’s request. He needed to get out of that hotel and any excuse was a good excuse. The whole dad living situation completely outweighed any anxiety had about Fletcher’s weird sex thing.</p>
<p>“No- sorry,” Andrew hadn't gotten a decent shower either, he couldn’t even afford a fucking bottle of soap. He knew he must look grubby with his unwashed hair. </p>
<p>“Really, what’s going on?” </p>
<p>“Nothin’…” Andrew faked an enthusiastic normalcy in his tone.</p>
<p>“You seem off.”</p>
<p>“It’s just… a lot's been on my mind lately.”</p>
<p>“Well the only thing I want on your mind, is this,” He pointed down at the chart.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, It’s just I’ve been stressed… a lot recently…”</p>
<p>“You want to talk about it?”</p>
<p>“No, I just want to get this done.”</p>
<p>Fletcher rolled his eyes at that, “Well we aren’t doing anything unless you talk,” He sat next to him, crossing his arm, “Talk.”</p>
<p>Andrew stiffened, body subconsciously repelling itself,  “It’s just. I was kicked out of my apartment.”</p>
<p>“Where have you been staying?”</p>
<p>“Some shit hole hotel in the Bronx.”</p>
<p>“Why don’t you stay with your Dad?”</p>
<p>“He’s snubbing me right now.”</p>
<p>“MMMmm, Well... sounds complicated…”</p>
<p>“He’s just pissed, he’s always telling me to have a back up, but I’m starting to think he always viewed this,” Andrew gestured to his drums, “as a backup.”</p>
<p>“Like I said, complicated,” Andrew’s brows creased, feeling frustrated and embarrassed for complaining about something like this to Fletcher. He obviously couldn’t care less about Andrew’s home life.</p>
<p>“Well I told you what’s going on, can we get started?”</p>
<p>Fletcher brought his face down to meet Andrew’s gaze, which had been fixed firmly on the snare drum, “You look like hell.”</p>
<p>“I always look like hell,” Andrew said with a sardonic laugh. Had Fletcher seriously not noticed that this was almost a permanent state for Andrew.</p>
<p>“And you’ve always been a subpar drummer.”</p>
<p>“I’m not subpar,” Back to this shit again, one second he’s so good he doesn’t need correction, and the next he’s considered barely mediocre.</p>
<p>“You’re a subpar, repressed, self destructive child, so you can either choose to put that shit behind you, and cooperate with me, or I can find someone who's less complicated.”</p>
<p>“I’m not subpar!”</p>
<p>“You’re not very good either.”</p>
<p>“You still liked it though,” Andrew was in Fletcher’s face now, he knew that he was beat-red and tight lipped, his heart was pounding in his throat.</p>
<p>There was a moment it looked as though Fletcher might punch him, before a smile slowly crept up on the old man’s face, “I don’t recall…” Fletcher said, eyes narrowing, “But,” He shrugged, trying to play coy,  “I do know what you play like when you just give in and enjoy it. Let all that frustration go.”</p>
<p>“There were plenty of other ways I could’ve gotten my frustration out,” Andrew said accusatorially.</p>
<p>“Not true, you see Andrew,” He looked down to the boy’s throat as he ran a hand up his arm, resting at the base of his neck, “You’ve put me in the tough spot, I now know how to get results from you, and you sure as fuck weren’t getting them any other way,” His voice reached that scratchy pitch as he suddenly drew their faces a breath away.</p>
<p>Andrew had made a promise to himself not to let this become a habit. Fletcher fucking him would defeat the whole purpose of being his teacher. It was going to bastardize his true desires… But why wasn’t he able to stop himself from feeling excited about it, it was so fucked up he couldn’t think straight. Fletcher wanted more of him.</p>
<p>“So I was good then?” Andrew’s voice was shaking with the rest of his body, he looked back at Fletcher's mouth, anticipating the kiss he knew was coming. </p>
<p>“You’re a disgusting brat you know that right,” His hand wrapped slowly around Andrew’s neck, “I could break you in half.”</p>
<p>Andrew could feel every part of his body sweating, the fact that part of him was so violently opposed to this made it much harder for him not to be aroused by it. His eyes met Fletcher’s, “Cant. You need me.”</p>
<p>And in an instant Andrew was kissing Fletcher, and fuck, Fletcher’s tongue was swirling in his mouth. His skull was burning, he held his breath, this was disgusting, but that disgust came with a breath of reassurance.</p>
<p>“Shit kid,” Fletcher pulled back, their lips disconnecting with a stomach turning smack, “Love to have that mouth on my cock.”</p>
<p>That idea hadn’t even broached Andrew’s mind yet. Playing into Fletcher’s perversions had led Andrew into a deep hole. But, turning back now might risk exposing the reality of the situation; Andrew was just a stupid kid, trying to get ahead by sleeping with the teacher. </p>
<p>“I-I… ” Andrew was lost for words.</p>
<p>“You’re cute. You know that?” Fletcher was fucking with him.</p>
<p>Andrew did like that, he had never been called cute by anyone other than Fletcher, he never even considered that to be a positive before this moment. Fletcher’s hand was still raked through Andrew’s hair as he swooped into the boy’s neck licking and sucking it. Andrew inhaled with a shiver, feeling Fletcher’s cheek against his Jaw. He felt surrounded by the older man, his mouth was warm on his neck, and his free hand was creeping under his shirt. Andrew gasped as cold fingers ran up his back, making his skin contract with every touch.</p>
<p>“Mmm, you need a shower,” that realization didn’t stop Fletcher from slobbering up Andrew’s neck. </p>
<p>“Sorry,” Andrew prepped so diligently last time to avoid comments like that.</p>
<p>“You wanna use mine?” Fletcher pulled back his arms still possessively around Andrew’s waste.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>Fletcher put up a hand, pulling a key from his pocket with the other. He handed it off to Andrew, “You are a mess kid, I don’t want you coming to another practice unless you are washed up and rested alright?”</p>
<p>“Wh-what is this?” He looked up with a pained expression. He had a pretty good idea what it was, but he was holding out hope he was wrong.</p>
<p>“It’s the key to my apartment,” Andrew cringed hard. He should’ve just kept his mouth shut. What was he expecting? Well, he was expecting Fletcher to be the normal un empathetic asshole he always was. </p>
<p>He couldn’t accept this, but he also knew he wouldn’t refuse, the pros and cons of the situation being totally grey as everything else in his life. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about someone breaking into his room at night, he would have an actually decent bed, he’d be right next to the studio, and most importantly his dad would be out of the picture, even if it was for a little while.</p>
<p>“Solves both our problems right?” Fletcher smiled, but Andrew wasn’t sure it was as transparent as that, he was pretty sure this was for sexual reasons, “You can use my soap, eat my food, watch my tv, I don’t give a shit,”</p>
<p>Andrew smiled with a defeated nod, “Thanks Fletcher.”</p>
<p>--------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p>
<p>Andrew slinked up the old stairs that he had just about memorized six months ago. The hallway leading up to Fletcher's apartment felt different somehow. More dim and lonely now. He opened the door and turned on the light to see many of Fletcher's belongings were scattered on the ground. Drawers pulled out and cabinets disheveled. </p>
<p>The first night he was there Fletcher had let him take the bed. Andrew cringed at his own naiveté. He hadn’t even fallen asleep yet when Fletcher crawled in next to him. Nothing happened, but it was still part of Fletcher’s plan… well a plan Andrew had no proof of. </p>
<p>Andrew let himself into the master bedroom, and for a moment it felt as if he never left. The layout was the exact same, the bed was even made, but that lived-in smell was gone, leaving behind the musty dry smell of an unused new york apartment. </p>
<p>He threw his back pack on the ground and crawled under the blankets before looking for the remote. His mouth pulled into a shrugging frown when he picked it up from the nightstand. </p>
<p>-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p>
<p>Fletcher held Andrew in place, one hand braced on his stomach, the other slowly dragging over his member. Andrew’s naked back was pressed against Fletcher's chest, both of them sitting against the headrest. Fletcher had turned some porno on, he usually had some kind of visual stimulant on the TV when he masturbated Andrew. </p>
<p>Andrew let out a sharp gasp as Fletcher squeezed particularly hard. He kept his attention on the woman giving head on the television, trying to place himself there instead.</p>
<p>“You’re fucking sexy,” Fletcher huffed as he pet Andrew’s stomach, admiring the slight peach fuzz there. Andrew’s hand found purchase on Fletcher’s knee, holding on for dear life as he tried to fight his orgasm. He didn’t want another snide comment from Fletcher about being touch starved.</p>
<p>The woman on screen switched positions and started being railed. Andrew averted his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing… It helped a little, until Fletcher took Andrew's ear into his mouth and started sucking on the lobe. </p>
<p>“Fuck!” Andrew let out a high pitched creaky moan, squeezing Fletcher's knee while cumming all over his hand..</p>
<p>“God dammit Andrew,” Fletcher huffed before pushing off his fucked out mentee. </p>
<p>Andrew sprawled out on his back, unable to do anything but catch his breath. He expected Fletcher to walk off and take a shower like normal, but he instead stood in front of Andrew's open legs. There was a weird look on his face, leading Andrew to his next conclusion, maybe he wants a blow job. He was going to lean forward but a large hand held his chest down.</p>
<p>Fletcher reached into the shelf beside the bed, pulled out a red jar. He presented it to Andrew, “This lube is ten dollars. Yeah, I know. Total rip off. So I’m not going to waste half of it trying to convince you that you can take my dick. You get what I’m saying?”</p>
<p>Andrew’s eyes were wide, he felt like he knew where this was going… but he couldn’t mean that… right?</p>
<p>“I’m saying that you are going to need to relax,” Fletcher opened the jar and placed it on Andrew’s chest. The sight of Fletcher dipping his fingers in the liquid sent a mental warning flare through Andrew’s mind. His hand shot up, grabbing onto Fletcher's wrist, “Wait!”</p>
<p>How the fuck was he even supposed to say this. He had never even considered how something like this worked between men, he wasn’t exactly planning on doing anal in the near future. Fletcher was patient enough, no yelling or berating just, “What?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know how this works,” Andrew blurted out, his face scrunched up as he tried to hide his embarrassment.</p>
<p>“What? Ass fucking?” Fletcher said the words with a disgusting punchiness.</p>
<p>Andrew shook his head, “I don’t know if I want to do stuff like that....”</p>
<p>Fletcher pulled back his hand, and for a moment it seemed as though he would back off, only for him to run the tips of his fingers over Andrew’s entrance, “How’s about you find out?” He shoved one in with an odd level of force that made Andrew jump. </p>
<p>“I mean it!” Andrew tried to reach down only for Fletcher to raise a warning hand.</p>
<p>“Keep that from spilling,” He pointed to the open pot of lube on Andrew’s chest. </p>
<p>Andrew lay back down, grimacing at how awful his entrance felt at that moment, “Fletcher, please we can do something else,”</p>
<p>“I just want to see how good you look taking my cock,” Fletcher leaned over Andrew, smiling in that ooey gooey way that made Andrew’s face grow hot and his brain go stupid.</p>
<p>Andrew held his tongue as another finger entered, he just bore it with no breath, “So you never put anything up here?”</p>
<p>Fletcher curled his fingers slowly, “No,” His voice was strained, “I never even thought about it.”</p>
<p>“Well the key is to relax,” Fletcher put a second hand on Andrew's lower stomach, “Right here, relax under my hand,” Andrew tried, but it was hard, the fingers inside him hurt like ice and needles, it just didn’t feel right.</p>
<p>“I can’t, we have to stop,” Andrew shook his head, hands straining to reach Fletcher’s.</p>
<p>Fletcher rolled his eyes, before rearranging his hand and thrusting back hard and erratic. There was a sudden jolt of electricity up Andrew’s spine and making his mouth gently twitch open. </p>
<p>It seemed like Fletcher could read his mind and he wasted no time pushing in repeatedly. Andrew felt his mouth water and his throat close, his dick now springing back to life.</p>
<p>“You know you make cutest little noises when you have my fingers up your ass,” Fletcher said with a smug self satisfied smirk. Andrew couldn’t help it, but the words made him hotter.</p>
<p>Fletcher pulled out his fingers and lined himself up, He looked like he was pondering something before he reached over Andrew and pulled out a box of condoms from the bedside table. He took out a strip and looked down at Andrew, “How many times you think we can go tonight,” He asked with an amused grin, before taking one off and throwing the rest on Andrew. </p>
<p>“Wait-wait!” Andrew pushed himself back, Fletcher grabbed his hips, pulling them up off the bed. He all of a sudden felt much smaller when he saw Fletcher holding his legs.</p>
<p>“I’ve got you Andrew,” Fletcher was practically drooling as he lined himself up, “Be as noisy as you want,” He pushed in and Andrew let out a cry that sounded extremely foreign to his own ears. It hurt like hell, like his body would shut down unless he fought back.</p>
<p>“Fletcher stop!” He tried again to pull away only for Fletcher to violently thrust in deeper.</p>
<p>“Good boy,” Fletcher praised as he panted heavily.</p>
<p>Andrew’s legs spasm with every thrust, he could feel himself ripping, and from the look on Fletcher’s face, it had to be a really tight fit, “You’re hurting me,” Andrew's voice came out in short biting whines. He felt the urge to defend himself, maybe punching him would make it stop, but the thought of eliciting Fletcher’s rage in the bedroom filled him with fear.</p>
<p>The sounds of pain seemed to have an effect on Fletcher, a deep groan coming from behind clenched teeth. Fletcher grabbed Andrew’s dick, tugging it clumsily as he continued to plow him from behind, “Look at me Nieman,” He sounded out of breath.</p>
<p>Andrew was refusing, knowing that the second this was over he was out of this apartment, out of Fletcher’s band, out of his fucking life for ever. As he felt himself starting to get tangled up in all kinds of emotions there was a hand grabbing his face. His eyes met Fletcher’s and his stomach turned with disgust, he was being fucked by a man… that was his reality… he was letting this happen… </p>
<p>“You’re so fucking sexy…” It was a common praise from Fletcher, but it hit Andrew hard every single time. He bit his lip hard, looking stupid levels of bashful. He should feel embarrassed for allowing Fletcher to see how much he enjoyed that praise, but he was taken back by the feeling of arousal that took over him.</p>
<p>“You’re gorgeous like this,” Fletcher brought his mouth down on Andrew’s, his thrusts easing up, “Do you want me to stop?” He asked half muffled by the kiss.</p>
<p>Andrew tensed as his emotions fritz out in confusion, “Make him stop! Make him stop!” his logical, pain-filled mind screamed, but it left him with a sinking feeling. He felt stupid for saying it, “Keep going,” He grit his teeth, bracing for the rest of it.</p>
<p>“That’s what I thought,” Fletcher pulled back, grabbing Andrew’s knees for more stability before ramming into him as violently as possible. Andrew’s hands were clenched at his sides, just hoping he could will himself through this. He lifted a hand to his dick, maybe he could try and get off. Fletcher laughed, stinging that pit of lust in Andrew’s stomach. </p>
<p>“Fletcher,” He spoke up with a gasp, immediately slamming his mouth back shut.</p>
<p>“Yeah?” Fletcher sounded deeply entrenched in his work. Andrew was struggling to talk, starting words but shaking his head, “Spit it out.”</p>
<p>“I need you to- I need you to talk while- you do it,” Andrew was dying, he could feel it. He wasn’t going to open his eyes until it was over.</p>
<p>“What?” Fletcher asked breathily, frustration edging his tone.</p>
<p>“Tell me I’m good…” He liked that, he liked hearing it… He opened his eyes to ask for it.</p>
<p>They looked at one another, for the first time as a couple in intercourse. It was bizarre, like everything in the world should have prevented this from happening, “You’re fucking amazing,” Fletcher strained as he finally came, doubling over. Andrew pushed against Fletcher, avoiding being crushed as he was also hit by his own orgasm.</p>
<p>Fletcher was impossibly close to him, painting next to his face as they both cooled down for a moment. The sound from the TV was audible again, now that the ringing in Andrew's ears had died down. Fletcher reached over Andrew to grab the remote and switch it off. Andrew looked up at him, an old feeling stirring up inside of him, an admiration or sense of belonging with fletcher.</p>
<p>He fixed himself up, tying off the condom and ditching it before pulling back the covers, “You not going to shower?” Andrew asked almost casually.</p>
<p>“No,” Fletcher tried to pull Andrew up before the boy winced, immediately falling back, “Does it hurt?” Andrew was shocked by how much it still hurt, like he had just fallen from a two story building, “I’m sorry,” he kissed the top of Andrew’s head, “You do crazy fucking things to me,” He hoisted Andrew up by his shoulders and knees, guiding him to the back of the headboard.</p>
<p>He took his time getting Andrew cleaned up and tucked in, “You know, before the concert this weekend, my friend invited me to a little get together, well more than a get together. I could take you as a plus one. There’d be people with studio space, and maybe a couple recruiters from Juliard.”</p>
<p>“Wouldn’t that mean… I’d have to leave?”</p>
<p>“Well, you don’t have to leave if you go to Juliard. Just don’t get this chummy with any teachers over there alright?”</p>
<p>“Alright then,” Andrew said cooly with a smile. </p>
<p>Fletcher smirked, “Get rid of that smug face,” He gave him a kiss before climbing in next to him and switching off the light, “Night Andrew,” He had an arm around Andrews waist, this time it was so warm. Andrew looked at that face, that angry ugly face. All of those bad decisions had led him into this small moment of intimacy. He was wanted here.</p>
<p>This feeling was one that he had been reserving somewhere deep inside of himself for a time when he wasn’t encumbered by school or practice or self hatred. Something he had never entertained sharing with a girl, saving himself the heartbreak of having to choose between her or his career. And then out of nowhere here it was, someone who was both part of his life and his career, someone who he could see himself actually being able to love. He had to say something to solidify it.</p>
<p>“Fletcher,” Andrew finally got the words out. Fletcher opened his eyes, the hallway lighting up his face enough that they could look at each other, “I love you,” he was sure he meant it, from the depths of his soul he meant it.</p>
<p>For a moment it seemed like Fletcher didn’t hear him, he didn’t even bat an eye at those words. After letting out a sigh, he brought his hand up to Andrew’s cheek, running his fingers back over his ear. He leaned forward and gave Andrew a small chaste kiss.</p>
<p>Fletcher pulled back and with a calm smile said, “I love you too kid,” Andrew made the next move, putting Fletcher’s arm back around his waist, allowing himself to be spooned by the older man. Fletcher pulled him in closer, “Now go to sleep,” he mumbled into his neck. </p>
<p>----------------------------------------------------------------------------</p>
<p>Andrew rolled his eyes, cringing at the thought. Who was he fooling? "Asking for it," was putting it lightly. Andrew needed it at the time, what else did he have. He had heard other people explain his situation as Fletcher separating him from his friends and family yada yada, but Andrew didn’t feel manipulated. No one put a gun to his head and told him to say that.</p>
<p>Fletcher was in the wrong, Andrew did say no after all… but who would believe that knowing moments later he was saying I love you? He laughed bitterly. One more week and he would be back in court. He’d have to somehow block that part of the story from his mind. But then again, this was the only part he felt comfortable remembering.</p>
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